Dullahan
by PerfectNezumi
Summary: Ciel is so used to otherworldly creatures that he's just surprised that this one seems normal.


_Oh dear, another crossover fic. Mild violence (let me know if you think I should up the rating)._

" _When the dullahan stops riding, that is where a person is due to die. The dullahan calls out their name, at which point they immediately perish."_

.

The landscape is dry and barren; a chill wind whisks dust from the ground in swirls, its soft whistle the only sound to be heard for miles around. It is eerily lonely for the young boy who shivers, pulling his cloak up around his face, and tries to stamp the cold out of his bones.

"Hurry _up_ , Sebastian," he snaps, but his voice merely disappears on the wind.

.

Ciel hadn't wanted to go to Ireland; he thought the people too rowdy and uncouth, and they were always too keen to ask questions. _Why is such a young'un so fancy dressed, like? Wot's about that cane? Yer a bit too short to be a lord, ye are._ Nothing seemed to keep them at bay, and even Sebastian couldn't keep them from coming close, short of separating their heads from their bodies (and unfortunately that wasn't acceptable behaviour for the butler of the Queen's Watchdog).

Also, this time of year the weather was simply appalling, and he'd much rather stay at home enjoying a careful game of chess with a nice cup of tea beside a gently crackling fire. The English scum who had crossed over to terrorise the Irish could be left to his own devices, as far as he cared. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. Serial killers were only his problem if they dwelt in his vicinity.

"Young Master, if it is Her Majesty's wish…"

Sebastian was carefully playing the ever-diligent butler with his respectful bow and immaculately groomed appearance, but Ciel could hear the amusement in his voice. He thought it was _funny_ that Ciel had to go out in the cold like a peasant to hunt down this insolent killing bastard. As far as he knew, demons didn't feel cold. _Maybe he'll feel heat if I set his coat on fire?_ he thought spitefully. Then they'd both be warm.

"Write Her Majesty that I, as the Queen's Watchdog, will gladly do her bidding and be back within the week," he said haughtily.

.

It has been more than a week. In fact, it has been three. Three long weeks of bone-rattling cold in which he is sure he's gotten frostbite. He doesn't know whether it was good luck or bad luck that their journey had taken them to a desolate area devoid of prying locals, but his crooked leg aches and oh what he wouldn't give for a hot bath.

His horse wanders up beside him and whickers his ear. He gives it a dirty look. Sebastian had left before dawn on an 'urgent mission' and left a note to say he hadn't wanted to wake his 'beloved Young Master' and if he so desired he could trek due east to meet up. Ciel suspects that his oh-so-devotedbutler is well aware of the fact that he is unable to mount a horse without the aid of human or stepladder.

Scowling, and with a "I bet you find this hilarious too," muttered to the horse, he begins trudging determinedly east. The heels of his shoes wobble precariously on the uneven ground, and he digs his cane in harder than necessary with each step. The horse follows along at a sedate pace, occasionally nuzzling at his clothes as if to check whether snacks are going to appear. It doesn't seem bothered by the cold at all. How unfair life is.

.

"…And when Sebastian gets back, I'm going to make him do all the dirty jobs I can think of. He better not underestimate my wrath. I'm so bored I'm talking to a blasted horse!"

And what's worse, Ciel realises, is that the horse isn't even listening to him. Its ears are pricked up, face swiveled away from him, hooves testing the ground nervously. It looks seconds away from spooking.

He can hear thundering hoof beats in the direction the horse is staring, and guesses the horse is just shy or something. But as the hoof beats grow louder the horse grows more agitated, its eyes rolling back to show only whites, whinnying with fear. Without warning, it bolts.

"Hey!" cries Ciel, but the damn horse is already disappearing into the distance, along with all of his provisions.

Ciel scowls and kicks at the lumpy ground. If he calls for Sebastian to help him the demon will treat him like a spoilt baby. He is shrewd enough not to say anything directly, but too cruel not to hide his disdainful amusement. And Ciel has too much pride to deal with that more than he has to.

Instead, he figures he should head towards the unknown horse. His own horse will be long gone by now, and he deduces that the unknown one probably has a rider who may help him out of this hellhole. Of course, the rider could also steal everything he has and leave him for dead, but he's willing to take that risk as his own horse has already stolen most of his belongings. Plus, if he is attacked then he will have a legitimate reason to call Sebastian back. It's a win-win situation, really.

.

 _I will stop just after that rise,_ Ciel tells himself. He's exhausted and starving, and yet to find any horse or rider. It's almost as if it disappeared into thin air. By the position of the sun (what he can see of it through the clouds, anyway) he judges that he has been walking for near on two hours, and that dratted butler of his is still nowhere to be seen. At this point he doesn't even care how much Sebastian will make fun of him, he just wants to find him and go home; as soon as he'd lost the horse he'd pretty much guaranteed himself a severe ribbing anyway.

The rise turns out to be less of a rise and more of a large hill, and he's forced to stop and catch his breath at the top. He's tempted to just collapse on the ground where he is when he catches sight of something that makes his tired heart jump a little in hope; a person in black is standing just past the bottom of the hill, facing away from him. The hope quickly morphs to irritation. _I'm not paying that damn butler to just stand around._ He frowns. _Well, I'm not paying him at all. But he still shouldn't be making me walk like a peasant._

Ciel half-stumbles down the hill, doing his utmost to keep proper posture. It doesn't matter that no one else is around; an earl should always act befitting of his status. Still, he's fed up enough to reprimand Sebastian before properly reaching him. "A proper butler should act in a timely and effective manner, understanding his master's wishes at al times."

The person turns, and Ciel is forced to shove the rest of his planned tirade back down his throat. He is not Sebastian. In fact, 'he' is not even a he. Staring at him with idle curiousity is a woman who seems to be in her mid-twenties, with short pale brown hair and pastel green eyes. Her mouth is stretched into creepily wide grin. Ciel fabricates an embarrassed smile and gives a shallow bow. "Excuse my rudeness, ma'am. I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive, of the Funtom Toy Company. Have you seen a tall man with red eyes recently? I appear to have misplaced my butler."

Over-politeness, he hopes, will encourage the woman to give him what he wants; food, warmth, shelter, Sebastian, or all four – he's in no position to be picky right now. Contrary to plan, she simply continues to stare silently at him.

A soft whinny makes him startle, as what he assumes is the horse he'd heard previously trots up behind the woman and nuzzles her shoulder. Its coat, hooves and mane are black as coal, the same as her skintight attire. The woman scratches the back of its neck, and Ciel blinks and rubs his eye just to make sure his tiredness isn't causing hallucinations. Where the horse's head should be is nothing but a trail of black smoke.

"He has collar-length black hair, and is wearing a suit and white gloves," he continues.

The woman looks at her headless horse, then back at Ciel, who is waiting patiently for an answer. Slowly she reaches up and grabs a fistful of her own hair. She pulls, and her head leaves her neck with a quiet pop. The same black smoke curls up where her chin should be.

Ciel frowns, and gives a small cough. He hopes that he won't get sick from being out in this weather. "If you haven't seen him I should probably keep searching."

[you are not afraid of me?]

The mouth of the disembodied head moves in time with the words, but the voice does not seem to come directly from it. Rather, it is a soft sound that feels like a whisper directly in his ear, but at the same time surrounding him.

"Should I be?" Ciel asks. If she's not human it's unlikely she'll have food, so speaking to her is just wasting his time. That said, his feet are aching and it's somewhat more comforting resting with a companion in this desolate wasteland than feeling like the only person alive on the planet.

[I am not human]

Ciel resists the urge to roll his eyes. A headless horse with a headless rider; she must think him a moron if she thought he thought her a human. "And?"

[humans fear me]

"I'm sure they do," Ciel offers genially. For his part, he's more sick of encountering non-human beings than afraid of them. In his experience, they are all total whackjobs. At least this one seems polite.

[why do you not fear me?]

"You haven't tried to kill me yet," Ciel offers simply. _Or hit on my butler,_ he adds silently, shuddering at the memory of a certain red-haired freak.

The woman seems to consider this, though it is hard to tell as her face is set in a permanent grin. Suddenly she stiffens, and turns her whole body to look to one side. Ciel follows her gaze and sees nothing.

[that is odd]

Ciel waits patiently.

[he was supposed to die here. someone is interfering with fate]

The woman settles her head underneath her left arm and swings herself with fluid grace up onto the back of the headless horse.

"Would you take me with you?" Ciel asks. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows what has happened.

There is a long, heavy silence before the woman holds out a hand for him to grab.

[you are a strange human child]

.

Ciel is not a big horse lover under normal circumstances, and riding the headless horse cements his dislike for them. He feels as if he's clinging to a shadow that could evaporate at any minute and the speed at which they are travelling blasts cold air directly into his face. It seems to blow right through the woman in front of him.

The sound of the horse's hooves is loud in his ears, but conversely it feels as if the horse is barely touching the ground at all as it runs. There is no bouncing or jolting as they travel, only freezing wind.

They come to an abrupt halt and the woman flows off the horse with no apparent intention to help Ciel down. Thankfully, she has brought him directly to the one person he is desperate to see.

"Sebastian! Stop messing around and come help me down now," Ciel orders.

The butler carefully finishes wiping an array of cutlery with a small cloth - stained with what appears to be fresh blood - before placing them neatly in his pocket and turning toward Ciel. He gives a small, amused smirk, and bends 90 degrees at the waist. "Yes, my Lord."

It is undignified to be lifted off a horse in the very hands-on fashion that Sebastian chooses, but at this point he couldn't care less. He just wants to go home.

[who are you?]

Now that he's off that dreadful horse, he notices that his riding partner is standing over a suspiciously still person lying on the ground.

[no, what are you?]

Her disembodied voice lacks emotion; Ciel thinks he can pick up a hint of curiousity but that is all.

"Me?" Sebastian brushes his hands together to get rid of any dust. "I am merely one hell of a butler."

The woman turns the head under her arm to stare at them, her body still facing the man on the ground.

[you are not of this realm]

Sebastian smiles, and there is a dangerously amused glint in his eye that puts Ciel on edge. He bows again, coattails flapping in the breeze. "I sincerely apologise for stealing your prey. But, seeing as you were to execute him anyway, you may as well take this as a favour."

The woman stays silent, and shifts her face back towards the corpse. Black tendrils of smoke appear at her right hand, lengthening and solidifying to form a large, sharp death scythe. In one clean swing she severs the head of the dead man, and Sebastian murmurs appreciatively. "Traditional weaponry is so much more elegant than a chainsaw or a lawnmower."

A sharp cracking noise permeates the air as her foot comes down hard on the severed head, splintering the skull and spraying the body with blood. Her mouth opens, and a terrifying high-pitched screech emits from it, an extreme contrast from her previous calm, soft voice. Ciel feels chills run down his spine.

With her scythe in one hand and her head in the other, the woman stalks towards Ciel, her feet making no noise on the ground. He holds his ground, maintaining eye contact, mouth set in a firm line.

After a long moment of staring, she turns to Sebastian.

[demon, you have found an interesting child]

Sebastian flashes a knowing smile, with the hint of a threat in it. "The exquisite soul I am cultivating is for my dining pleasure only."

The woman seems surprised and then, unexpectedly, laughs.

[I understand. perhaps we shall meet in another lifetime]

Sebastian inclines his head. "Perhaps."

She swings easily onto her horse's back, and is gone without another word. Ciel is not altogether sure if he sees her ride away, or if she simply faded out of existence. He looks over towards the mangled body of the man on the ground and almost gags. He turns his head to look just past it. "Sebastian, is that the man we were searching for?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Ciel scowls, feeling his anger build up again. "If she was just going to kill him anyway, why the _hell_ did we have to come all the way here in the first place?"

.

 _Endnote: As is probably apparent, I know shit all about Ireland (though I'd love to visit!). So apologies if I've misrepresented the people, landscape, weather etc._


End file.
